


Own You

by ohgodmyeyes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal, BDSM, Biting, Breathplay, Choking, Halloween fun, Happy Halloween, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylux - Freeform, Licking, M/M, Male Slash, NSFW, Slapping, Slash, Smut, star wars smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-15 21:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21260069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohgodmyeyes/pseuds/ohgodmyeyes
Summary: Kylo has been Supreme Leader for a little while now, but he’s as volatile as ever. His poor General, Armitage Hux, finds himself on the wrong end of one of his boss’ quirky moods.





	1. Good Boy

“What is the meaning of th—“

A sharp smack to a pale, thin, ruddy face. “Shut your mouth, Armitage.”

“I really don’t think—“

A punch to a set of jutting ribs. “_Shut your mouth, Armitage._”

Kylo Ren brought his hand back down to his side as he watched his top general cough and hack. It had been some time since he had taken control of the First Order, and without somebody like Snoke to placate his nature and direct his dark compulsions, he had become increasingly unstable.

General Hux obeyed; shut his mouth. He’d drawn it into a severe line and coupled it with a glare he directed furiously at the Supreme Leader. He had caught his breath; so, finished sputtering, he waited— what was the point of this? 

He looked down at his own shirtless form. He was bound by cuffs and chains on his wrists to a wall somewhere on Ren’s ship, but his feet were planted on the floor. He was wearing his usual set of formal black pants— coupled with his boots— but his shirt and coat were missing; presumably removed by the man who had put him into this humiliating pose.

That man, who had turned briefly to pace and quake, brought his own face— angry; unfocused— very near to that of his subordinate. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

Hux did not know if he was allowed to answer. 

“_Do you?_”

“No! I just don’t understand what you’re doing with me, or why, and—frankly— I’d like to find out, before you do any more.” He still projected an air of composure; something he was proud that he had always been able to do, no matter what the circumstances. He wasn’t lying; he didn’t think Ren was stupid. However, he did think the violent young Lord was utterly unsuited to his new role; the one he’d taken on himself, gleefully, without consulting anyone but his dead grandfather’s mask. 

He never would have said this, but he didn’t really have to. Even without using the Force, Kylo Ren knew exactly what his underlings— all of them; from his General here in bondage, to the lowest-ranked engineer— thought of him. He knew that they respected him, but also that their respect was borne of fear as opposed to admiration; and thus, was precarious by its very nature. This angered him; angered him wildly and deeply— it often felt like a wound.

So without anyone to temper his pain or rage, he had begun to act out in increasingly unpredictable ways. Hux had noticed it long before today; in his strategic decisions and requests for increasingly strange and elaborate equipment, and in his excessive weapons training tempered by very, very little meditation. The changes in Kylo Ren since he had killed Snoke were gradual (although becoming less so) and significant. 

He supposed the fact of him being in this position, now, was a result of those changes, but he had never expected this level (or type) of lashing out from his new Supreme Leader. In spite of his outward composure, he did not really know what to do here— so, having answered, he waited again and hoped for a few hints from Ren as to his ultimate intentions.

His own face still drawn very close to his General’s, Kylo whispered, “I’ve been having thoughts.”

“What thoughts?” 

“Thoughts that won’t go away. Thoughts of you— of owning you. Did you know that I own you, now?”

“‘Own’ me?”

“_Own you_.”

A shiver traveled down Hux’s spine at the repetition of these words in Ren’s deep growl, and goosebumps coated the bare skin on his chest and back. Since his feet were free and planted, he tried to stand taller— but only managed to make himself wince as he felt the metal cuffs around his wrists dig into him with the movement. “Augh...” He shook his head and continued, “What does that entail, exactly, Ren?”

A gloved hand on Hux’s face; warm breath in his ear. A body, large and strong and covered in layers of pitch black, stepped up very closely beside him; looming, utterly unrestrained. “First— call me Master.”

The still somewhat-indignant redhead narrowed his eyes and virtually spit out, “_Master_.” 

A drawn hand, then a slap as harsh as the first one; sudden, on the side of the General’s face that, up to that point, hadn’t yet been marred. Hux softened his own eyes very deliberately, and repeated in a much less ornery tone, “Master.” 

Kylo stroked with his thumb the place he’d just hit, and murmured, “That’s better...”

Hux took a very deep breath in; noticed the pain in his ribs, and immediately regretted it. He supposed that there was nothing to be done about this— he knew that trying to kick out with his legs would amount to an act of futility, as would any attempt to talk Ren down from whatever strange emotional peak he had climbed. He was frightened, but helpless, and so did what he’d been trained to do in these situations, which was to steel himself: He would take whatever came in the hope of it all ending sooner; he also resolved to react as little as possible to Ren’s temper tantrum— although in this regard he guaranteed himself nothing.

Finished stroking the spot his hand had landed, Ren took hold of Hux’s face and pressed his own into it roughly. He kissed deeply, and in a probing and desperate way; Hux could feel a hyper tongue veering this way and that inside his own mouth. Ren also grasped his prisoner hard around his rib cage, producing a gasp of pain and a jerking shudder. The towering Dark Lord drew back his face at this, and moved his hand to grab a tight handful of ginger hair.

Hux groaned as he felt his head being pulled back harshly; he looked at the ceiling, barely having time to notice hot breath on his neck before he felt teeth dig in with unexpected sharpness.

He screamed and tried to kick but noticed that he could not, after all, move his feet. Ren pulled back, again. “Did you really think the chains were a necessity?”

A rhetorical question to be sure, but instinct made Hux shake his head in response and test his legs again— they were stuck.

Kylo looked his captive up and down, thought for a moment, and proceeded to peel off his own gloves, leaving his robes in tact. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you know.” And he bent to begin a slow and deliberate exploration of the General’s lanky body with his fingertips. He drew lines; sharp, round, jagged, swirly— he drew them along a protruding collar bone, along sharp-looking ribs, and around Hux’s bellybutton, nestled in the concave bowl of his stomach. 

He pressed deep into flesh just barely protecting delicate internal organs. He paused, every so often, to feel the pulse of the man Snoke had forbidden him from playing with in this way; the man about whom he had been having maddening, escalating thoughts which confused and enraged him. He relished feeling Hux's pulse speed up and slow down with his own movements; his own hands and breath.

He leaned in; smelled his General— spicy soap, and fear— and licked him, too. He sucked small, pink nipples that stood out sharply against a smooth, white expanse; he let his lips roam downward to suck on the skin of the stomach into which he’d just finished tracing lines. He nipped at the ribs, and hips, and licked along the waistband of those handsome uniform pants that he liked to use his mind's eye to rip off of the General before he went to sleep at night. 

Hux, through all of this, stood fast and still; he couldn’t do anything else, and anyway, he wouldn’t know what to do even if he could have moved. He’d never picked up on even a hint of the notion that Ren would want to treat him like this; let alone that he’d wanted to do it for so long. Now that he knew, he was still terrified, yes— but he also wished he had known sooner.

In spite of himself; in spite of quickly-forming bruises on his fair skin, he could feel his cock twitching in his pants in response to the Supreme Leader’s excited touch. He let a moan escape him as Ren trailed his tongue and fingers back up his body; it was much different from his groans and screams of pain, and this did not go unnoticed.

“See? You like it, then?” as Kylo stood.

Hux considered carefully, then answered, “I like _this_.” A pause, followed by, “You don’t have to rough me up, necessarily, to get things that you want, you know.”

A very rare and brief smirk, then an answer, “But what if I’d like to rough you up a bit?”

The General’s cock throbbed at this, inexplicably, and he shifted his hips as best he could with his limited range of motion. What was actually, properly going on here? He didn’t know, but he did know that as his Leader’s attentions began to sensualize and intensify, his own interest in participating in this odd farce increased. 

What, after all, was the harm in making this easier on himself? If he co-operated, perhaps he could get more licking and less punching. And anyway, it was not as if he had never sneaked a peek at Ren during his training; in his personal quarters— he was a magnificent specimen; huge and unyielding. Anybody would have looked— although that is all Hux had, up to now, suspected he would ever do.

This situation was something entirely different.

So, as he processed his combined fear and arousal, he finally responded to Ren’s last question; tentatively, but with a distinct hint of long-repressed hunger, “Perhaps just a bit, then.”

Ren sniggered, somewhat uncharacteristically, and put a bare hand on Hux’s neck. “Yes. Perhaps.” He squeezed gently, then leaned in to lick the marks he’d left on it from biting before.

“Do you think you could unshackle me, then? Since I’m being co-operative?” He tried to repress any glimmer of hope in his voice.

“Mmm...” Ren drew out the noise as though he were really considering the question, then slowly shed his heavy, black outer cloak. “...No. No, not yet.” He moved to take another kiss from his captive General as it fell to the floor; less desperate, but still forceful— it made Hux buck and gasp.

Ren broke that kiss, and finished in a deep, raspy whisper right next to a listening ear, “But maybe— _maybe_— if you’re a very, very good boy for me... well, then I’ll think about cutting you loose for just a little bit.” 

At this, he bit down on Hux’s earlobe and wrapped his hands around a slim waist; digging increasingly eager fingers into a thin, pliable layer of flesh. 

Hux inhaled harshly; painfully, and thought about just how good a boy he was going to have to be for Lord Ren in order to regain even a modicum of his freedom.


	2. Bad Boy

“Delicious! One more...”

“_Augh!_ Yes, Master!” Hux wrenched his hips forward; he was still bound by his wrists, and his feet were still incapable of voluntary movement, but his sharp, black uniform pants were long gone, leaving just well-shined boots. Lord Ren was naked, now, as well— also except for tall, shiny boots— and he was kneeled down in front of his redheaded subordinate. He was actively relishing the sensation of his own teeth sinking into the pale, sparsely freckled flesh of an unwilling thigh.

Large marks, angry and red, traversed the stark-white skin painfully; however, an unwavering, dripping hardness protruded anyway from between the General’s legs. He could neither help it nor explain it, but it was there— although being ruthlessly ignored in favour of the sensitive wounds Ren had now begun to slowly lick. 

He grimaced, and exhaled harshly. Ren had been gnawing on him for several minutes now; he’d wrenched off the bound officer’s pants violently, first, then he’d torn away the rest of his own robes and leather. He had gone quickly to work after that, chewing long and winding red lines down Hux’s neck, chest, stomach, and legs. 

Ren seemed to be finished biting for the time being, so Hux attempted to regain some composure as he reluctantly enjoyed the sensation of his Leader’s tongue finally inspecting the work his teeth had wrought. He licked upward; back up until he was standing. He paused on the way to run a single fingertip along the head of Hux’s neglected cock, collecting on it a generous drop of the General’s leaking juices.

Once he was standing again, Ren looked down coolly and cupped Hux’s face with his hand; as he did, he smeared his captive’s arousal in a thick layer on one cheek. When he pulled his hand away, he leaned down to lick it off, then proceeded to roughly thrust his tongue into Hux’s mouth, allowing him an ample taste of himself. 

Hux recoiled at first, but remembered his position, and put that instinct to rest. He willed himself to relax until he was leaning into the kiss. Forgetting himself, briefly, he began to move his own head and tongue in synch with Ren’s.

The Supreme Leader, however, was not ready to let this happen: As soon as he registered his prisoner taking pleasure in the movements of his mouth, he pulled his head back very quickly. 

“Bad boy— It’s not your turn to have fun yet.”

And he drew back with his hand, barely giving Hux time to wince before gifting him a punishing smack to the jaw. He bit his lip this time, and cried out impulsively, “Fuck! Ren!”

“What?” One more harsh slap, in the same spot.

“_Master._” He spit a dollop of ruby onto the floor between his feet. Then, he exhaled, “Goddamn it.”

Ren grasped his General by the chin. “Be good, and I’ll make sure to give you something nice.” Then, he slid his hand down to encircle Hux’s neck. Slowly, he started to apply pressure.

Hux took in a quick breath. “Please don’t.” He hated; _hated_ when Ren choked him.

“Please don’t...?”

“_Please don’t, Master,_” he managed, as he felt his anxiety rise and noticed his voice waver.

Ren toyed with the pressure he was applying to Hux’s neck; tightened his grip, then loosened it again. Finally he let go, but before a sigh could escape his tortured officer, Ren closed his hand in the air and it was as if he’d never released his actual, physical grasp at all.

A strangled cry, then a full-body wrench against the power of the metal restraints on his wrists as the increasingly familiar sensation of not being able to draw a breath overcame him. (Ren had been doing it a lot lately, although this context was new.) _ I hate this, please stop!_— it was the only thought his mind could form.

The Dark Lord did stop, but not without turning his own lip up into another cruel smirk. It was so very unlike him, that Hux almost ventured to ask about it— but changed his mind as that expression gave way to a new, dark nonchalance. It was also unlike Ren, but slightly less so. The General found he much preferred it, and let the smirk go in hope that it would simply not return. 

Breathing heavily, he spit out some more blood and ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, detecting several small tears in his lips. He was going to sport evidence of this ordeal for weeks; it was going to look terrible. Ren should have known he needed his army’s top commander to look decent— was he not thinking about that, or did he just not care? What the hell was going on with him?

“Are you ready?” Rich; deep.

“Ready for what?” Clipped; breathless.

“Ready for me to let your wrists free.” He stepped close, smelled Hux’s hair. 

“Of course I am, but that’s not up to me, is it?”

“No, it’s not.” Ren sidled up even more closely; stroked a sweaty mess of short ginger. “But you’ve been good.” He paused. “Good enough for me, anyway.”

He stepped back with a broad stride; raised his hand in the same way as when he’d used the Force to choke his captive. This made Hux’s face recoil with fear, but instead of taking a strong hold of a bitten throat, Ren used the energy flowing from out his hands to force the cuffs around his General’s wrists open.

As he let out a gratefully relieved breath, he also felt his arms become heavy again; they fell to his sides first, then Hux himself fell to his knees. He realized that a combination of the shackles and his superior’s use of the Force had been the only things keeping him standing. In a new position, now, and able to move, he registered anew the aches in his ribs and shoulders. He continued to breathe deeply— it felt like he’d been strung up forever— then after a moment, his eyes ascended.

Ren was looming; massive and nude— and still erect— and altogether too attractive for Hux to _entirely_ hate him, even right now. He narrowed his eyes anyway; then, “Thank you.”

Ren reached down with a broad hand. After hesitating briefly, Hux took it, and allowed himself to be drawn up onto his feet. He was unsteady; he nearly fell, but— for whatever reason— a second huge arm shot out to catch him, wrapping itself around the General’s slight waist and holding firmly. 

“You’re welcome.” Another smirk, but one not as cruel as before. It was still confusing to Hux, but he was once again not given time to process his thoughts as he felt himself being leaned far, far back. He was suspended around the middle by one of Kylo’s enormous arms; his own hand still holding the one the towering Lord had used to pull him up. 

Very deeply— but less harshly— Hux felt Ren’s kiss upon him once again; this time, he hesitated in responding until he saw Ren close his eyes. Once he did, the newly-freed subordinate tentatively flitted his tongue out to join his captor’s. First he went very slowly, then he began to lean up into the kiss with his sore neck. He felt Ren’s hand squeeze his own, and his loins start to tingle as they had when he’d been being licked. Their mouths parted, then he was stood straight up again and held closely, now, by two huge arms.

He didn’t mean to say it out loud; he’d actually believed he’d only thought it, but it came out anyway, in a mumble against Ren’s still-tense neck: “What the hell...”

He felt the same inexplicable snigger reverberate through the Dark Lord as before; then, in a hushed tone, “I told you. I’ve been having thoughts.”

Hux dared to pull his head back to look Ren in the eye. He was beginning to feel exasperated, aside from everything else. “What are you thinking about now, then?” 

The Supreme Leader squeezed tightly; painfully, and leaned in again to speak directly into his best officer’s ear. “I’m thinking about all the different ways I can pose you now that I’ve let you down. Get on the floor— on your hands and knees, for now. I promise— you won’t hate this.”

Hux took a step back as he was released, and glared. “What? I th—“

At this, Ren raised a hand. The sight of it drawn back was enough to stop the General’s protest, and he begrudgingly lowered himself first to one knee, then the other. Still half-hard, he tried not to glare as he looked up at his captor and placed his hands, too, on the cold, hard floor. Ren did not respond to Hux’s eyes, but instead disappeared altogether from his field of view.

The next thing Hux knew, he was crying out as that hand— that same one that had somehow already trained him to stop speaking— came down harshly on his ass, and a set of sharp nails raked along his back. Ren was behind him, now.

“Augh! You said I wou—“ The hand that had begun to scratch him grabbed his hair instead and tugged harshly; the other slapped him again in just the same place as before, and the end of his sentence was replaced with another sharp yell.

“Be patient, Armitage. I also said you needed to wait your turn.” As he said this, Kylo Ren knelt down himself and stroked the hot, red handprint he’d left on Hux’s ass. “How long it takes for us to get to your turn— again— depends on your behaviour.” He leaned in to gently nip the marred cheek, and Hux yelped. “Can you keep being a good boy for me?”

A quivering breath, then, “Yes.”

“Yes _what_, Armitage?”

A sigh; defeated, “Yes, _Master_.”

“That’s so much better...” And Ren began to bite hard at Hux’s quickly bruising ass in the same way he had torn at the other side of the helpless redhead’s body. 

The General waited, trying not to scream, for his superior— his ‘Master’, now, to hear Ren tell it— to finish his gnashing and get on with the licking that Hux knew, now, he wouldn’t mind nearly so much. It couldn’t come quickly enough.


	3. My Boy

A deep breath mixed with a chuckle; then, “See, I told you.”

“Nng... ah!” Hux was on his back. He was still laying on cold tile, but he now had Kylo Ren’s tongue excitedly— almost unbelievably— flitting about the rim of his cock. The wounds from Ren’s teeth on his ass and the backs of his legs had felt terrible, at first, against the harsh chill of the floor— but now, he was tentatively beginning to forget them in the wake of his impatient erection finally being attended to.

His massive captor had gripped him very firmly as he had, first, devoured the back side of him as eagerly as he had the front: Hux was certainly not looking forward to sitting the next day. Then, Ren had carefully licked the painful marks, coaxing his General’s cock into a false sense of security. After that, he had grabbed and harshly yanked another handful of hair, while backhanding pale thighs unrelentingly with sharp knuckles. 

Eventually he had grabbed Hux by the hips and wrenched him over; that was where the officer found himself now, finally getting something to help him forget his pain... although he was experiencing a severe unease at not knowing how or when Ren’s abuses would resume.

He was tense, and Kylo could feel it. “Calm down, Armitage... isn’t this nice?” He asked between what were now becoming gaping mouthfuls of cock. 

“Ah... _yes_!” Hux propped himself up somewhat painfully on his elbows. The sight of Ren’s impossibly large arms pinning him, coupled with the sight of his Leader’s head bobbing up and down on his starved erection, was making him writhe and grunt.

This had been an experience unlike any other for the General— no part of his training and no part of his youth could ever have prepared him for this. He found that seeing the bruises and marks that Ren had left; feeling where he’d been brutally hit, made him seethe with raw anger and hatred. However, his superior’s kissing and licking and... well, _this_... these things were offsetting those feelings, causing a confusion within Hux that was new and frustrating. It had the potential to become devastating if this ordeal did not end soon. 

To him, gratefully, it finally seemed as though it might.

He bucked his hips up into Ren’s face and yelled out; he could feel himself begin to leak more, and grow harder. In spite of the pain and soreness extending from his head to his toes; in spite of the mental tug-of-war between his own shameful desire and entirely appropriate hatred for his captor... Despite all of that, he was _so close_; so close that he wanted to scream it out, but he just didn’t have the words.

It turned out that he didn’t need them anyway, because Kylo Ren knew just how near his helpless prisoner was to release; knew that if he kept going the way he was, the General would blow up in his mouth at any second.

So, he stopped.

He stopped suddenly and without fanfare; simply removed his lips from Hux’s badly engorged organ and sat up on his knees to watch the reaction.

It was unceremonious, to say the least: An unbridled scream, followed by a gut-wrenching, “_FUCK_!” Hux pushed himself up so that he was sitting, supported now by his hands planted on the floor. Tears of frustration threatened the corners of his eyes; this embarrassed him, and that made the sting even worse.

Ren simply remained in front of Hux, a look of calm satisfaction fixed on his face. He raised his hand nonchalantly and asked, “‘Fuck’ what?”

A dam broke, then, at the sight of that stupid hand. Hux blinked; the hot and salty tears in his eyes began to stream down his face, and he could barely manage to choke out. “F-f-fuck _MASTER_.” His composure was, finally, gone. Ren had won, he thought. With a heaving, choking, angry sob he followed in barely a whisper, “_Goddamn it..._”

Kylo, who had been expecting either sheer anger or calm compliance at the new deprivation, was not controlling himself well enough to hide the surprise on his face. Not having anticipated this reaction in particular, he stayed still, staring at his General’s bruised, bloodied, and now tear-streaked face.

“Can you just end it, now? Please? Can you just _end it_?” Hux lifted his head to look at Ren, then raised his hands and balled them into fists; soon he released them and let his arms fall to his sides helplessly as he continued to stare.

“I—“ The Dark Lord started, then stopped. He looked back at Hux; at the damage he had imposed. 

“Why like this, Ren?” Defeated; unable to continue the charade.

“Because you’re mine.” Decisive, nearly petulant— but also without raising his hand.

Hux sighed and shook his head; it had been ringing for a long time. He didn’t have an answer; a response. For all intents and purposes, he _did_ belong to the Supreme Leader. He couldn’t have left; even if he’d wanted to, there wouldn’t have been anywhere for him to go. 

Why had he bothered to question it? He remained silent, too, now. There was nothing to say; no point in saying it.

Finally Ren spit out, “You’re _pretty_, Armitage.”

“What?”

“Pretty.” He paused; breathed, watched Hux blink away a few remaining tears and begin to shiver. “I’ve... wanted you.”

“Like this?” Incredulous. He wouldn’t have expected it, even from Kylo Ren.

Another drawn-out silence; then, “Wanting you makes me angry.”

“....Why?”

Ren breathed deeply; looked to the floor. He considered the question; considered it carefully. Certainly no one had ever asked it of him, and he had never asked it of himself either. He hadn’t ever had the time.

Hux coughed; rubbed at his side from his seated position. Ren, still drawn up on his knees, inched himself closer to the General; not too close, yet. “Wanting you makes me angry because I’m not supposed to want you. Do you know what wanting you made Snoke do to me?”

“What are you talking about?” Of course Hux didn’t.

Ren’s hair was falling around his face now; his features suddenly lost a bit of their edge, and he looked less intimidating than he had only minutes ago. “Every time I thought of you. Every time I thought I might like to touch you. _Every single thought of you that I had ended in pain for me._” 

He came closer, still on his knees— but he sank down a bit to loom very near, now, to his confused captive. “I could never stop. He loved to throw you in my face; tell me I had failed because of you. He would pull thoughts of you from my mind and use them to mock me, but they would _never stop coming_.” A bit of that edge returned to Ren’s face as he finished, “I still can’t stop them. You make me _so fucking angry._”

“He’s dead now, Ren.” It was the only thing Hux could think to say. Until he’d found himself bound to a wall being punched in the ribs, he hadn’t had a hint that these feelings toward him had existed at all: What a way Ren had found to express them.

The Supreme Leader looked away from his officer, toward the floor. “I know he’s dead.”

Hux sighed; didn’t know what to do. “Then why like this?” He paused and considered very carefully. He had, indeed, always looked on Ren with lust. “You could have... asked.”

A pink, satin lip curled up, but not into a smile. “_Asked_?”

“I didn’t mean—“

Ren sidled up just inches away from Hux; put that hand of his back onto a bruised and bitten neck. “I won’t ask permission to use what belongs to me.”

What had Snoke _done_ to him? It wasn’t a charade; he meant this, all of it. Hux panicked; capitulated. “Of course not, I just meant that—“ Ren squeezed. “_Fuck_!”

“You’re making it worse, Armitage.” Plainly; without obvious rage. He loosened his grip but left his hand on Hux’s throat. With the other, he touched the back of that sweaty ginger mess he had always wanted to stroke and tug, and he drew the General into another kiss. 

Hux closed his eyes; felt the sting of fresh tears. The hand on his throat made him scared, but this kiss was so different from the others that it could almost have been described as loving. He didn’t know what to do with it, so he returned it. Daringly, he raised his sore arms and snaked them behind his Leader’s head. He fingered tangled black strands; leaned inward in spite of Ren’s hand on his neck.

Finally the hand disappeared, but not before giving a final, subtle squeeze: A reminder, he supposed. Ren pushed Hux down, more gently— but very intently— onto his back again. He pressed his own nose into dried blood as their mouths continued to dance; ran his tongue along cuts inside of a mouth that tasted strongly of copper. He tugged that tousled red— not harshly, this time.

Slowly, Ren lowered his own torso, too, until he was laying down on Hux; enveloping his thin, battered form with his own body— large, and strong. He broke the kiss; lifted his head, and looked down at what he’d done. He wasn’t proud of himself, but he’d accomplished what he had needed to. Hux was not going anywhere; not now, not ever— he didn’t know it, but Ren couldn’t have afforded to let him go, even if he had wanted to.

Kylo Ren loved Armitage Hux, without knowing how to love. No one had taught him, and he’d not ever been allowed to practice.

So, he was claiming ownership instead. 

Hux began to understand, now, as he felt Ren’s enormous warmth envelop his own fragile chill. He came into his comprehension at the same time he noticed the Supreme Leader’s cock stiffening again; it pressed into the groove next to his hip, and he realized: This was the only tool he had at his disposal.

He tangled his fingers up further in Ren’s hair; stared into his eyes. He could not quite read them, but thought that he knew what to do. “Ren? _Master_ Ren?”

Quietly, “What?”

“Fuck me.” He paused; corrected himself. “_Please_ fuck me.”

“You want—“

“Don’t _you_ want?”

“Yes.”

“Then make me yours. Fuck me.”

Ren did not say anything else; he didn’t have to. He rose so that he was straddling his General; reached with a long arm for his robes. He retrieved them, and plucked a tiny bottle from a pocket.

He’d planned on fucking Hux, but not on being asked for it. Kylo Ren hadn’t realized how strongly he’d have to be nudged toward his own fulfillment, but here he was. To him it felt a success; a victory— Armitage knew who he belonged to, and it was not to himself.

He opened the bottle; poured it out onto his hand. Slick, smooth, wet— It felt like he’d waited forever to use this; it was almost unbelievable to him that he could now, with no consequences that he could perceive.

He coated his own cock, first; it was nearly as starved as his prisoner’s at this point, and he could not keep himself from gasping, even at his own touch. He drew himself up high on his knees, and Hux pulled his own legs out from under him. 

They worked in tandem, finally, until Hux’s ankles were hooked around Ren’s shoulders. One large hand gripped a slim hip, the other teased the officer’s ass with a slick thumb, making him groan and start to grow hard yet again. 

The Dark Lord was so strong and Hux so slight, it was easy to wrench his body upward— soon Ren had guided his own well-lubricated length deep inside of his best officer. Hux cried out, but did not tense or resist, except to scrape his nails along the smooth tile of the floor as he relished the burning stretch of a cock that matched its owner’s size— it was the nicest pain he’d experienced all day, if he were being frank with himself.

Ren took hold of Hux’s thighs, then, and held them fast against his own body as he began to thrust. Holding up the frailer man’s lower half with only his arms, he did not start slowly. Hux continued to yell out, but he also could not help himself from reaching up between his own suspended legs: He was throbbing again, and by this point, very hungry for relief. 

Ren did not stop him. He simply continued to rut and grind as his eyes travelled over the body he’d so brutally manhandled. It was so beautiful; even more so in this state: Hux’s injuries were symbolic of his new ownership. Both of them knew it, and were in fact resigning themselves to it right now as they fucked.

Hux managed to catch Ren’s eye; held it for only a moment as he gazed over the body that had damaged him. Hard, enormous, and violent; simultaneously so handsome, and always utterly imposing... its sight had, for a long time, been enough to drive Hux to distraction. 

Now, he could not help himself from reacting to the reality of it naked, and crashing into him: Release, finally, for the General, spurting in hot and desperate trails all over his own stomach; coating and pooling around bruises and teeth-marks. 

At the tortured moan let go by Hux— his pet, now; his toy— Ren, also, lost control of himself. Perhaps sooner than he’d wanted to (Hux’s damaged beauty had forced his hand), he shuddered and grunted and pumped his own desolate essence deep inside his captive. He thrust until he was empty; until he knew he had nothing left within him.

He withdrew, then, and gently lowered a set of trembling legs to the floor. Only now did Hux begin to feel the impact of the tile on the bones in his back and shoulders, but he ignored that as he simply laid down and breathed.

Ren leaned down; propped up on his elbows, he covered Hux with his body once again. It was an almost protective gesture; would have been, anyway, if Hux had needed protection from anyone other than Kylo Ren himself.

Both men began to take more even breaths; their gazes focused, and they stared at one another’s faces, both expressionless.

Hux felt a combination of gracious relief, defeat, and uncertainty. Ren was no longer angry. He was, in fact, as close to placated as he was ever likely to get. More than anything, he felt satisfied that he would be able to do this, or something like it, again. He did not yet know what the next time would look like.

Finally, he said in a decisive tone as his eyes remained fixed on Hux, “Mine.”

With wide eyes and little hesitation, the subjugated ginger replied, “Yours.”

At this, Ren made an uncharacteristically contented sound. He rose slowly, but not before running his fingers one last time along Hux’s badly bruised neck. 

Without speaking a word, he dressed, and once he had done that, he turned to leave the room. 

“Wait— what am I su—?”

“—Supposed to do?” Ren moved to look back down at Hux, now half-sitting on the floor, still naked, bruised and dripping. “Your clothes are in the next room. Wait until I leave, then retrieve them. Clean yourself, and report to my quarters. You will rest there, until I come for you.” He turned to the exit again. New pets required lots of breaking in, the Supreme Leader thought.

Hux answered, “I— yes,” then saw Ren stop. “Master,” the General added, correcting himself. He was getting better at this. Ren continued on, now, and left. Hux did not move until the click of his boots became faint, and eventually disappeared.

When he did move, he found that his entire body was a ruin of pain; his mind a swirling, screaming wreck of confusion. Ren had, indeed, made him utterly lose that composure he’d always been proud of, along with so much else. 

He hoped to regain a tiny bit of it by the time he was to report to his new Master’s quarters, but was sure from what he had just experienced that holding onto it would be a very different matter. 

Not belonging to himself any longer, he knew that he had no choice but to rise to the challenge.

**Author's Note:**

> It turned into a three-parter. Sorry! <3 Happy Halloween— it’s always Halloween.


End file.
